Snowangel
by I love you - Flower
Summary: He wasn't sure what it meant, why it happened, or even how it did, but one thing that was for sure; he couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, get that boy out of his head. The ghost was on his mind from the first moment he woke up and the last image in his head before he went to bed. Aster was sick and the only prescription was his addiction. Bunnyfrost Hooker!Jack
1. Season's Greetings

The first time Aster saw him, it was the beginning of the winter.

Aster had been in a rush to get home. He had things to do. Tooth had talked him into a commission of painting he didn't like doing. But, he needed the money. And with this final butch of paintings, he could live how he wanted and not worry about being stable financially.

Aster was waiting at the bus stop, which was not ideal in the cold temperatures. The painter liked the warm seasons better. Spring being his favorite. He would paint eggs for the local orphanage. It brought joy to him to see the hope-filled eyes of the children as they found the eggs. Aster liked bringing hope to the children who had lost it themselves.

He breathed out a sigh, filling the cold air with the warm, water vapor from his lungs caused his breath to come out as fog. Aster wrapped his fur coat around himself, keeping in whatever warmth that tried to escape through the gaps at the bottom of the jacket. He shivered. Where in the hell was the city bus?

Beside Aster, the only other thing with him in the cold was the bus stop in itself. It was just a pole with the generic off shade of blue sign, stating that this was indeed the bus stop that he needed to be at. He looked around the lonely street. Had he missed the bus?

Aster sighed. He really didn't want to wander down that road. If he missed the bus, he would have to wait for another hour before the next one came to pick him up. He would have to wait outside, in the cold.

Aster looked down the street again. He couldn't have missed the bus. The bus came precisely at the top of the hour, every hour. He had finished his work for the day, stopping ten minutes till, like usual. He said good-bye to some of the other painters that shared his studio. North had patted his back with a strong hand, sending Aster on his way with a sore shoulder.

Aster rolled his shoulders, feeling a spike of pain as he did the motion. North really needed to refrain from causing him pain. He had things to do. Money to make. If he got an injury, he would lose time. And if he lost time, he would lose money because time is money. No matter how you looked at it.

Aster thought about it, again. Because of the cold weather, could they have stopped the city buses, tonight? Early? He shivered at the thought. He would have to stay on this side of town. For a night? That would not do at all. Aster wouldn't get any sleep in a dingy motel room. The light from the annoying neon sign would most likely stay on all night long, and then the sheets would not keep in the warmth he needs to fall into a dreamless sleep. He would most likely have a nightmare, just about the condition of the room. So, don't get his imagination started on the food he would have to eat for breakfast.

Aster gagged and shivered again. Was it just him or was it getting colder? Must be all of his negative thoughts. He brought his hands up to his mouth and blew a hot breath on them. He rubbed his hands together and repeated the motion. Why did he have to forget his mittens, today? They were safely tucked away somewhere, in his warm house, while he was stuck in the cold. So unfair.

Aster sighed before he checked his watch. It was ten minutes after the hour and still no sign of the bus. He sighed in defeat, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his fur coat. Looks like he'll have to wait for the next bus or he would have to walk home. Oh fun.

Aster pulled the fur of his coat closer to his neck. Why did it have to be so cold? It's the middle of December. It should not be this cold. The weatherman had said there would be no snow, today. So, low forties were fine. But in the thirties! And the windchill makes it even worse, being in the twenties. He shivered and sneezed. God was punishing him. That had to be it.

Aster walked to the street corner. There was an alley here, if he wasn't mistaken. It could shield him until the bus came to get him or he froze to death, whichever came first. He could called North or Tooth to came and pick him up. He blanched at the idea. He would not interrupted them, not after last time. An angry North he could handle, but an angry Tooth. Not on your Nelly. There is a reason why people call her Tooth, and he did not want to be another reason on her always growing list.

Once in the alley, Aster hummed in content. The cruel wind was not stinging his face and cooling his exposed skin any longer. He hugged his arms around himself. His back did not touch the brick wall behind him. He knew what would happen if he did.

 _Thermodynamics_ , a voice said in his head. _According to the second law, heat transfers from the 'hotter' object to the 'colder' object. The heat transfers between the objects until the they reach equilibrium. Heat is an energy that is transferred through convection, conduction, and/or radiation. There is no such thing as 'cold'. You just lack heat._

Aster snorted. That was a weird concept to wrap his mind around. He wasn't cold, he just lack the energy to kept him warm. And he knew what would happen if he touched the bricks. All of the heat in his body would be stolen by the wall and he would never get it all back.

 _And that's how you get hypothermia_ , the voice continued. _All of the heat energy that is in your body is transferred into the snow that you are laying on. It melts the snow, changing the state of the snow from solid to liquid. Your body and the 'cold' snow and surrounding air take what little heat your body makes to try to reach equilibrium. Since the system is a long surface area, you would die before you reached that point. So, no skinny dipping in the winter. I mean it!_

Aster laughed at the thought of his little chemistry teacher. God, he does not remember her name, but he remembers her strong and down-right authoritative presence. She was tiny. Her voice was loud. She was cranky, but she got down to the point and had most people to remember things by telling some sort of story. Aster had been in that GenEd by mistake. Or, at least, that is what the consular had said. Until Aster could transfer classes, he would have to deal with getting up early so he could make it to her eight a.m. class.

That had to have been the worst and best class of his freshman year. Don't get him wrong. He still liked all of his classes. It's just, that chem teacher knew how to make chemistry fun. For even the people who didn't need to be there. She had fun while teaching. She was a feet.

Aster sneezed. He looked at his watch again. A quarter after the hour. He wanted to go home before he was turned into a popsicle. Aster tried to swallow. He gagged. He already had post-nasal drip. He needed to go home before he get sick. Well, before he got any sicker.

Aster jammed his hand back into his pocket and raised his head. He started a staring match with the matching brick wall across from him. He didn't win, of course. Seeing as he was the only one with eyes, but it was something to pass the time. After the walls third consecutive win, a blur of white caught in his peripheral vision.

Aster turned his head toward the source. He had thought it would be some homeless old guy. There were a lot around here. It was really sad.

But, no. The white flash was not a homeless person. It was a boy; because Aster really could not confidently called him a man. He looked _way_ too young. His lengthy body was surrounded by a blanket of pure white fake fur. Aster could not figure out how the boy had gotten in the alley without alerting him before hand.

The boy ran passed Aster, out of the alley. As he passed Aster, the painter could make out what the boy was wearing, or for the lack thereof. He was in washed out blue jean short-shorts that were over white leggings. His mid-drift was bare; the white crop-top he wore showed off one of his creamy shoulders. Blue graffiti crawled up his side in the shape of snowflakes. A necklace hit his chest with every step as he beat upon the ground with bare feet. His head of hair as white as the fake fur that dropped around his shoulders. He was on a mission, it seemed.

He rounded the corner of the alley and shot out of site. Aster looked around the corner, but the boy was gone. Like he wasn't even there. Had he imagined him?

A bus horn caused Aster to look at the bus stop. The city bus was waiting for him. He came out of the alley and booked it down the street to the stop. When he got there, he was panting. He was so out of shape. The bus driver smiled down at him as he let Aster on the bus.

The warmth of the inside of the bus welcomed him like an old friend. The radio the bus driver plays contently, softly sang Christmas carols. The bus driver sheepishly smiled up at Aster as he passed and took his normal seat next to the window, all the way in the back.

Aster leaned back into his bus seat. He tried to relax but something about that kid didn't sit well with him. He sighed. Or he could have hallucinated the entire thing? Could he have? Aster shook his head. He wasn't going to get an answer anytime soon.

The radio lulled, _Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nippin' at your nose…_

Aster sat up a little. He knew this song. It was a classic, according to North, anyway. It was by Nat King Cole, with several remakes. It even had a generic name. The Christmas Song. Like it was the only Christmas song that matters.

Aster huffed. He was what you call a 'Scrooge'. Not that he hates the holiday or anything. He has nothing against the holiday. Why he was upset had nothing to do with the holiday. It is just, North thinks that Christmas is more important than Easter. And, he is wrong. So wrong. It isn't even funny.

Around this time of year, North and Aster get into it. It is a friendly spat that most of the time gets escalated until Aster leaves by slamming the door into North's laughing face. Mean words are exchanged, sure. A punch or two, yep, you bet. But bad mouthing. That wasn't aloud. North is Aster's mate or whatever, and nobody, no matter how close they are to Aster, got to bad mouth Easter. Nobody.

Aster sighed. He was a real Debbie Downer, as Tooth had put it. She usually just sat back and watched as North and Aster went at it. But, after one really bad spat, a harsh exchange of words, and the slamming of multiple doors, she had realized that this stupid, immature agreement, if you could even call it that, had to stop.

 _No holiday is more important than the other._ Tooth had stated once she had gotten North and Aster to meet with a truce. _All holidays are created equal and hold the same importance as any other holiday. Now, either you stop acting like children or I will make you both my dress-up dolls for the next project in Fashion Design. Do you understand me?_

Now, Aster and North just joke about the holidays. Because that is all they can do, under Tooth's watchful eye and unclaimed treat. Aster shuttered. He did not want to be anyone's dress-up doll. Especially Tooth's. She wore things that only looked good on her, and would never look good on anyone else. Neon and feathers. Nope, Aster won't touch that with a ten foot pole, in this millennia or the next, for that matter.

Aster sighed. His breath fogged up the window he was next to. He liked sitting by the window. He could look outside when the bus people bored him. He only rode the bus when he had to. Which was most of the time, but he sometimes got help from North.

Aster shuttered. He really did not like that car North had. He could not tell you why, but he just does not like it. However, it might not even be the car. Anytime North got behind the wheel, Aster found himself holding on for dear life and chanting pleas to let him live.

The bus slowed to a stop. Aster looked out the window. It was his stop. He got up and walked to the front of the bus. He thanked the driver as he was let off and jogged toward his house.

His house wasn't really a house. Well, it was, kind of. It was the penthouse of the major hotel in the city. Aster was welcomed by the doorman. A simple tip of the hat and he was throw the door, and into the warmth.

Aster sighed. He had been doing that a lot lately. Maybe he was tired and had imagined the mysterious boy. He walked into the lobby and toward the elevator. He was almost home free.

Aster hit the up arrow and it glowed green, indicating the direction he wanted. He waited, tapping his foot impatiently to the Nightcore version of _Jingle Bells_ that played over the intercom in the lobby. No. It wasn't the Nightcore version. It was the Chipmunks version. Same difference.

 _Ding._

Aster sighed. Final. He was home free. He got into the elevator, tipping his head in greeting to the elevator man. En-turn, the employee pushed the button for Aster's floor. It glowed off-white as the doors closed. The elevator then, started its long ascent.

The corny elevator music was replaced by the instrumentals of all of the Christmas songs known to man. The elevator man hummed along to an unnamed one, standing perfectly still at attention. Aster always wondered if all elevator people were trained to be military stiff or if they were just meant to be unseen and unheard. But it wasn't like anyone could miss him. He wore the uniform of the elevator employee: forest green toy soldier suit with gold fringe and accents; blacks slacks and black polished shoes. His forest green with gold embroidery held tight to the side of his head by a black chin strap. He looked like a Christmas toy soldier reject. It wasn't his fault, though. Whoever had the idea of having the Hotel's main color scheme be forest green, gold, and black needed to be fired.

Aster looked up at the little screen that showed the floor as the elevator passed it. It illuminated the floor number in fluorescent green. It looked like he still had a long ways to go. The elevator employee started to hum along with the next song that came on. It must be hard. Listen to the same five carols on loop. Aster would go crazy. _It's a Small World_ crazy.

The employee never seemed to mind though. And, he probably knew all of the latest gossip. He was just so tight lipped about it. Aster would try to strike up a conversation and the elevator man would just stand there. Not moving a single inch. He had to be one of the Buckingham's Palace Guards. Those guys don't flint at anything, let alone smile.

Aster checked the screen again and regretted it. The elevator hadn't even moved ten floors since he last looked. Not like he noticed. The elevator was a pretty smooth ride, up or down. It wasn't one of those glitchy, stops-at-every-floor, your-stomach-is-at-your-feet-even-though-it-really-didn't-move elevators.

And Aster liked that about the elevator. It showed, too, in his midsection. He needed to start working out again. He had a body to maintain and horrible Christmas concoctions were just around the corner. North always throw an elaborate party to celebrate the start of the season. It always had all of the Christmas foods that should be on the _Naughty_ list and some Aster could not even name.

Aster sighed. He really wanted to go to bed. He was so tired. He was physically drained from what he had been painting. He'd pride himself in his work. It was beautiful. The strokes of paint made the image look realistic. And that's what he was going for. Realistic. He couldn't do the portrait of _Mr. Whiskers_ as an abstract. Mr. Whiskers' owner would not have it. She wanted her _baby_ to be 'all dolled up and pretty' over the fireplace.

Aster winced. He would have to stare at that ugly dog for the next few days. Not that he had anything against the creature. The canine just looked like it was fresh out of a B-rated horror movie. It was disgusting. And what made it worse was that dog had more care than some humans on the sketchy side of town.

Aster gagged. Why did he have to listen to Tooth when she had a new job for him to do. Ahh, yes. It was because Tooth was his friend and also the girlfriend of one of the other painters and one of Aster's dearest friends: North. He was basically at the mercy of that woman. She would diseve North and Aster when they were children, a lot.

Aster laughed to himself. He only got an eyebrow raise out of the employee, but that did not matter. He could remember like it was yesterday, when Tooth and North got together. It had all started with a dare. They had been at Aster's house - him, North, and Tooth - and Tooth has been talking about how she had never had a boyfriend. She had looked at both boys and spilled all of her insecurities.

 _And, apparently, I'm meant to spent the rest if my life in solitude. No guy has showed any type of interest in me, let alone spared me a glance. So, that's fine. I'll just turn into one of those crazy bird-ladies. Nothing to worry about._

As Tooth concluded, Aster looked at North from the corner of his eyes. He had known that his Russian friend was, in fact, head over heels in love with Tooth. He had known even before North had noticed it himself. Aster saw the conflicting emotions flash across North's face so fast, he thought he imagined most of them.

After Tooth decompressed, she said she needed to leave. A change of scenery may make her mood bounce back into its positivity. As she left, a flustered North followed after her, complaining about letting a girl walk home alone, in the dark being something from horror movies. He would accompany her to her residence.

And, the rest was history. He never got the full story out of either of them, but it was their business, after all. He was just happy that his friends were happy. And together. Something Aster wanted so much. With Aster's crazy work schedule, he couldn't meet anyone new at a gay bar, or even go in for that matter. He hasn't set foot inside of one in so many months, it started to feel like years.

Maybe that was why he couldn't focus on his work, recently. He needed release. One night to rut someone into a mattress. He would feel so fresh in the morning after. His muscles over used to bring pleasure to the person he would fuck. The _best_ pleasure. He would lie back with his arms crossed beneath his head, reminiscing the night and things devoted to his memory. Their scent. Their body. Their voice. Everything and anything that would allow him to get off the next few times without having to see them. _Perfect_.

 _Ding_.

The elevator doors opened. He was on his floor. He thanked the employee, inclining his head in a slight nod. The employee bowed in return. Aster stepped out of the elevator and walked the short distance to his door. He heard the elevator doors shut as he produced his keycard. The painter swiped the keycard in the scanner, waiting for the green light that meant his could open his door.

The scanner beeped and a green light flashed in three vertical bars on the handle of the door. Aster turned the knob and entered his _humble abode_. Which, really all that humble at all. It wasn't flashy, but it did scream that the painter had more money than he knew what to do with.

Which was almost true. Aster came from a family of old money. He inherited the fortune when he was fourteen. His parents and siblings went out just for a drive. He didn't want to go. Something about painting outside. Well, while he was painting the meadow, a driver of a cement truck fell asleep at the wheel. Aster had put two and two together. None of his family stood a of his family went out peacefully, dying on impact or at the seen. Those who survived lived with complications that had them meeting the rest of his family a few months later.

He was the last Bunnymand heir. Well, the last _sane_ one. Aster had a few cousins in lock up and some crazy uncles in the looney bin. But, for the most part, it was him against the world.

The painter deposited the painting supplies he brought home, and took off his coat, hanging it in the closet next to the door. He kicked his shoes off as he let out a lazy yawn and scratched his abdomen. Upon entering his room, he stripped out of all of his clothes and slid into the silk sheets that adorn his round bed.

"Lights off."

He snuggled into the warm embrace and gave the voice command to shut the light off. As Aster drifted off to sleep, one image plagued his thoughts. The boy. Whether he was a ghost or not, that would be decided later. Right now, he was too gorgeous to let go. So, Aster used that image. He'll probably regret it later, but he needed something to dream about. And fulfill his dirty fantasies. And ghost boy was the perfect candidate.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello, my pretties~ I'm in the middle of writing another chapter for TDF. So, have this instead. *throws glitter* Hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun writing this! See you later! *waves*

P.S.: Brownie points to people who review!


	2. Tied in a Bow

The second time Aster saw him, it was a coincidence.

Aster hadn't thought about the boy who filled his every waking moment with desire, or who had become his latest muse. No. Of course not. Why would he? He was safely tucked away in his dreams, where he could always be found. With little or no clothing. Always smiling and begging. Worshiping Aster to no end. Yes. He stayed in his dreams. Stayed where he could always be found, bound, and kept a secret.

Aster was in the studio, finishing one of the last pet portraits for the showing tomorrow. His clip-on desk lamp was attached to his easel, casting just the right amount of light to find the shadows. His paint palette had snowdrops of every color that swirled together to create colors that he needed with this animal's fur. It was a blue-grey. More azure in the right light and more grey in the shadows. And that wasn't the hardest part. It was making the exact same color every time he came back to it. Too much blue or not enough changed the outcome of the color. But, Aster knew what he was doing. After all, he was nicknamed the "Bunny" for a reason. He could always tell what colors concocted to make the end game. And he would help the creator naming the color.

He, himself, made colors from scratch. He was working on a few, mostly spring colors. Aster would use his new colors to paint decorations on the eggs for Easter. All of the children's delight when they would show an egg to their parents and explain why they chose this egg over another one.

 _Because, it's pretty_ , exclaimed a cute little girl. _It remembers me of snow and fun and family. Being wiff 'em. Holding 'em and being holded in return. She paused, looking up at him. It remembers me of my mommy. She cares for me and my broffer and she's pretty and nice. Best. Mommy. Ever._

The little girl had bright green eyes and blonde hair. Her brother, brown eyes and hair. They were twins and raiser by a single parent. Their mother. Aster had met the women only once. It had been that Easter. As the girl had run up to her and she was in sunglasses and had a scarf wrapped around her neck and hair. She had been in a royal blue, long sleeved T-shirt, white skinny jeans, and a pair of those slip-on shoes that were named after cartoon characters. She scooped her little girl up and tucked her into her side. The blonde girl babbled about the egg and gave it to her mother with a slobbery kiss on the check. The mother just smiled.

The children were rounded up to tell a story or something and the vanished into the building. The yard was littered with trash and candy wrappers. The volunteers started to pick up the trash with metal stake things in one hand and garbage bags in the other. Gloves donned each worker's hand. Aster helped to. He made this mess. He might as well help with the cleanup. The mother of the twins came over and kneeled down to the painter, collecting pieces near her and putting them in his bag.

 _Thank you_. Was what she said. It was all she said. They continued to clean, silence between them. It was a calm silence. Nothing awkward about it. The gentle breeze brought over the scent that seem to waif off of her. It was a mix of evergreen and winter. That was probably what Aster remembered more than anything. Her scent.

Every time he got a whiff of Pine Sol, his mind would go back to that scene. Them picking up trash on the lawn of the church. It had been a different time. He was trying to please his parents by being something he wasn't. If things had been different, he would have asked the women out to coffee with him. But, things weren't. If anything, things were way worse.

Being all out and proud. It had destroyed so many things. Anytime of relation that ended in a 'ship'. Parents, friends, even his _job_. He lost it all because he came clean and told the truth. The ugly truth.

Aster sighed and put down his paintbrush. The animal before him was the largest domestic cat, a Maine Coon. It was spread out like a tiger, on its side and head in the air. The tip of its bushy tail was raised from where it was tapping it against the ground. The cat had given him an uninterested look when he went about painting the feline. It had taken some work, but Aster made it look as though the cat was looking off, into the distance. Like, something had caught its attention away from the painter.

It was one of his best works, considering he happened to like this animal. It was beautiful and majestic. The largest kitten and a fur ball filled with fury. And, all he had to left was sign it. Aster picked up his detailed paintbrush and dipped the bristles into, what he called, Evergreen Pine. It was a blend of Forest and normal Green. He spelled out his name in curled calligraphy.

 _E. Aster Bunnymund_

Aster stood up and backed away from the painting. It was beautiful. Stunning, really. The bounder made the portrait look like it was an old, tin type. Except, it was in color. The cat was displayed on a giant pillow, on a pedestal. The painting held bright colors and captured the feline perfectly. And, his signature don't take away from the masterpiece.

He was done. He was, finally, done! Aster put away his paints and brushes. He smiled. What he cared for more than the money was the satisfaction that came with finishing a commission. He took the portrait off of his easel, placing it gently against the wall. He turned out the desk lamp and grabbed his coat, glancing one last time at the room over his shoulder. Feeling content, he turned his head and headed out of his studio, closing the door behind him. He walked past other little cubicles made of glass with wooden frames.

As Aster left the main studio, weaving his way through, many wished him a goodnight; stating it verbally or with a handshake or nod of the head. He made his way to his companion. He knocked on the door, before letting himself in. North was bent over his easel, painting with the finest detail onto a tiny painting and sat upon an even tinnier stool. Aster had often wondered how a big man like North never seemed to have back pain from being in a bent position for a long time.

North didn't seem to have heard Aster at the door, too engrossed with his work. So, Aster did what he always did. Scare the Russian by making a loud noise. So, quiet as a mouse, the Australian painter shut the door behind him and snuck up on the unsuspecting painter. Aster waited for the right opportunity. He didn't want to ruin what North was working on.

So, Aster waited. And waited. And waited.

What was the painter working on that needed all of his attention? Aster tried to think. Birthday? Not by a long shot. Holiday? It did seem Christmassy with all of that white. So, it was a present. But, who? Aster mulled it over. It wouldn't be for Aster. North knew that the Australian liked spring scenes better. So, who-

North turned from the easel and dipped his paintbrush into the murky water to rinse it of that color of paint. He dabbed the brush onto a cloth and went about choosing his next color. Good, he's away from the painting. Aster got a better look at it, even though it was shadowed by North's giant body.

It was a winter scene. Aster was right about that. Snow softly fell onto the street, blanketing cars, buildings, and the street. Two individuals stood in the middle of the road. They were silhouettes; black outlined them in the shadows. It wasn't until North chose his next paint did he realize who they were.

North picked up a color he had made himself. A mix of aquamarine, teal, seafoam green, and blue. This specific color, however, was named after his dear girlfriend. It was called Tatiana Teal, or what he called it more affectionately, _Teal Is The Color Of My True Love's Hair_. Which was a spoof off of a song Tooth liked.

Aster looked back at the painting. He looked at the detail, taking in each brush stroke. Something looked familiar about the scene that Aster couldn't name. North shifted, casting some light on a part of the painting Aster hadn't seen well before. And, that's when it clicked.

With a smile, Aster slapped his hand on the Russian's shoulder. "Ya bloody wanker! _T'is_ is how ya got Tooth ta say 'Yes.' to ya."

To say North was surprised was an understatement. The Russian jerked up in horror and spun around so fast that his little work stool toppled over and threw him into the ground. He groaned from where he landed on his back. Aster winced. That _had_ to hurt.

The younger painter knelt by his fallen colleague. North was, well, North. He wasn't hurt too badly to need medical attention, but he needed to take it easy on the way home and lay down for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours, with Tooth robbing peppermint oil on his tense back. Feeling back because he indirectly caused his friend harm, Aster helped North off of the floor and out of the studio. With one arm wrapped around the cussing Russian and the other fetching his phone out of his pocket, Aster looked at his fellow painter with a look of 'move out of the way or become my prison bitch.' It worked, to say the least. The other painters spread like the Red Sea, making way for them to make a swift exit.

Once outside of studio, Aster rested his cursing friend against the brick wall and fished out his phone. He sent a quick text to Tooth. He hoped she wouldn't be mad at him.

 _Come pick up, North._

He looked at the little thought bubble. The three circles flashed as if Tooth wanted to text back, but kept changing her mind on how to respond. Eventually, she decided on one because Aster's phone made the sound that indicate that Tooth replied - birds singing some unknown tune.

 _On my way!_

Aster smiled at her enthusiasm. She knew that Aster only texted her to come pick up her hubby - her words, not his - when he was drunk, passed out, or both. He looked over his shoulder at the Russian in question. He leaned the wall of the front of the shop, donned in his warm but badass coat. His head pointed to the sky as he took deep breaths. He looked like a hibernating bear.

Aster knew he shouldn't poke a sleeping bear, but this time it was different. He felt like he intruded into something that was not meant to for his eyes. Or, anyone's eyes, for that matter. It was just for Tooth and North to see. Anyone else would think it is a beautiful sentiment. A painting of two teenagers kissing in the middle of the street with snow falling in the background. But Aster knew better. He knew that that was the moment that they became Tooth _and_ North. And, it made him feel like he stumbled onto something that was meant to be kept a secret.

He looked at North again and swallowed. He was going to man up. He was going to shove his pride aside. He was going to defeat this, David and Goliath style. He cleared his throat as he stepped up the plate.

"'m sorry, mate. I-"

Aster brought his hands up to defend himself as North's eyes opened. The apologetic one coward in fear of the other. Don't get Aster wrong. He was big in his country, but North was small in his country. And he was _bigger_ than Aster. So, David and Goliath. With no sling, pebbles, nor battle. Just, them.

North sighed. He wasn't angry at the Aussie. Not in the slightest. It's just; there was nothing truly magical about that night. Nothing special. It just happened. And, it had been a train wreck.

He looked at his friend. The poor painter looked like he was expecting to be hit. Well, he was going to be hit. Might as well put that fear to use.

Aster waited. He knew that the Russian was weighing his options. Would he hit Aster before Tooth came? Would he hit Aster after Tooth showed herself? The world will never know.

Aster flinched at the impact of the hand on his sore shoulder. He winced. Okay, not what he expected. He looked up at the laughing Russian.

"If this t'was all it took to look like little kid caught in the sweets container, I would have spilled the peas early!"

North let out a joyous laugh that made his belly jiggle like Jell-o. He slapped Aster repeatedly. The Russian still had no concept of American idioms. But, he was getting there. And, it was pretty funny to hear what he thought Americans were saying.

"Yeah, whatever ya say, mate."

And Aster wasn't going to correct the Russian because that _was_ Tooth's job. She had a special joy of teasing her husband when he missed up an American saying. Aster didn't know what she did, but he preferred to not know about this. Because whatever she did, made the Russian happy and he would be able to say the idiom correctly. So, whatever floats their boat.

The sound of screeching tires alerted Aster that a mad woman was at the wheel of a car. Why no police has ever stopped her was beyond him. Whenever Aster goes two miles per hour over the speed limit, he gets pulled over. When she goes ten over, she let off with a warning. Someone really needed to teach her how to drive or tell him the secret of how to get away with no tickets.

She slammed on the breaks and the sports car jerked to a stop. Maybe that was a reason why Aster never liked their car. The red speed demon was built from scratch. North got a car kit from his father with a model of this car for a birthday when he was young. He built it and made improvements to the vehicle. And, when the Russian was sixteen, his father took him to the junkyard and told him that he could have any spare parts to build his dream car and thus the birth of the Sleigh.

Tooth smiled up from underneath her sunglasses. Why she was wearing them, he didn't know. It was already dark. Maybe it was a new fashion thing that she ran across on the internet or she was just making it her statement of the year. Whatever it was, it was dangerous, and should not happen. Ever.

She hopped out of the driver's side and made her way over to the Russian. He gave her a greeting kiss and wrapped his arms around her waist as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed and mumbled to themselves, in their own moment. They were cute, Aster could not lie. However, he had a bed to get home to and an imagination that needed exploring. So, he did what anyone would do. He ruined the moment.

Aster cleared his throat. "As much as I would like seein' two o' ma straight friends makin' out, leave befor' ya get carded."

The couple separated. Tooth rolled her eyes and North put his arm around her shoulders.

"Like anyone is watching, Bunny. You just don't want to see us make out because you don't have a boytoy-"

"Boyfriend."

"to hang off of your dick-"

" _Arm._ "

"and fuck into your mattress."

When she didn't meet a correction, she looked up from helping North into the passenger seat. Aster had a light blush on his cheeks that was not from the chilly temperatures. His nose buried into the fur lining of the hood of his coat. His arms crossed over his chest. He looked utterly adorable.

"Alright, who is it?"

Aster pouted, still blushing.

"Not tellin'."

Tooth raised a brow, amused.

"Really?"

Aster faced away from the car.

"Not on your Nelly."

Tooth laughed. She hopped back into the front seat, placing a hand on the stick shift. She saluted with two fingers then, placed her hand onto the steering wheel. In a blazed of glory, Tooth kicked up a cloud of burned rubber fumes as she slingshot the car away from the curb.

Aster waved a hand away from his face to clear the air. The couple squealed along with the wheels as they went around a corner. They were a match made in heaven. Like, two peas in a pod.

Aster laughed under his breath as he went to the bus stop. Those two were crazy. In every sense of the word. And, for each other. Which was adorable because their level of crazy could have had one or both of their soulmates in the looney bin. But, they were just enough crazy to still pass as a normal citizen.

Aster stopped at the edge of the street. He looked down one side then the other. The bus was late again. Why was the bus so late? It was usually punctual. What happened to its reliability?

Behind Aster, something moved around in the alley and hit something else that was metallic. Aster thought it was a cat, but then he heard the first something cuss about stubbing their toe. It hopped on one foot out of the alleyway.

It was _the_ boy. The one that Aster kept locked up tight in his bedroom. Away from the harsh cold of the winter nights. Away from anyone else's eyes, but here he stood. Out in the open.

He wore that white fur coat that haunted Aster's dreams. Where it touch nothing but his soft, pale skin. His icy blue eyes held anger as he gazed at his injured foot. As if it had a mind of its own and run into whatever metallic object it hit in the alleyway. His worried his plump bottom lip with his perfect, pearly teeth. He donned a silver sequined cocktail dress that barely came to the edge of hips. His legs were covered in neutral blue fishnet leggings. His anklet on his injured foot was silver with a rabbit and a blue ribbon bow. They jiggled as he jumped on one foot. And, even though he was in a dress, Aster knew it was a boy. Every time he hopped, the dress slide up his leg and unveiled his white lacy panties that held his cock. He could see the outline of the poor thing being held captive.

There was no mistake. He was a boy. A _beautiful_ boy. And, what was he doing dressed like that, on this side of town. Aster had a few ideas. None of them he liked. However, 'Hooker for Hire' was one of his favorite fantasies with his fake fur boy. So, acting like the pimp from that one black TV show that's always on, Aster swaged over to the petite boy.

The boy looked up from his spot on the cold concrete. He was massaged his foot and rolled his ankle. He hissed.

 _He must have tripped over something in the alley and caught his ankle. Poor thing._

Poor thing, indeed. When Aster crunched snow within a few feet of him, he looked up. He had a deer in the headlights look. And, as the painter got closer, fear filled those aquamarine irises. He looked like a cornered rabbit. No pun intended.

Every step Aster took, the more frantic the beauty became. He was going to hurt himself. Aster held his hands up in surrender. He wanted to be as non-threatening as possible.

"Sh. Frostbite. Everythin' t'is goin' to be alrigh'. Everythin' will be fine; just fine."

Aster repeated himself over and over again, laying his accent on thick. He wanted to prove he wasn't a treat. He just wanted - he didn't know what he wanted. One minute it was runting this beauty down deep into his mattress, but with the big, crocodile tears threatening to fall, Aster just wanted to hold the boy until he calmed down.

He squatted down next to the boy and gently reached out a hand to the boy. The boy looked at his hand as it invaded his space. Aquamarine tracked the tanned hand until the boy was cross-eyed. Aster patted his head.

"Good boy, Frostbite. Such a good boy."

Aster's hand caressed the top of the boy's head. The boy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. He sighed contently.

Aster smiled. He touched his ghost. His muse. His greatest fantasy. His latest conquest. And, his hair was soft. The white bob of hair was _real_ and not a wig. He loved running his hand through the thin silk. He could imagine running his hand through this hair after a runt into the mattress. No. He wouldn't treat his ghost with such disrespect. It would be slow, leisurely love making. He would explore and map out all of the spot that made the boy squirm.

Then, Aster would spread those lean, long legs and blow the boy's mind. Literally and figuratively. He would give the boy the best pleasure he had ever received and the boy would emit the beautiful sound of a siren.

Aster could picture it now. The boy all laid out for him and begging to be filled to the brim with Aster. The painter would tease and go at a torturing slow pace. The boy would demand and thrash, pleading for release and after he orgasmed, his tight walls would tighten even more and Aster would release _deep_ within the boy.

Aster sighed and picked up his hand to pet the boy one more time. He placed his hand where he thought the boy's head was. All he got was air. Frustrated, he tried again. Same result. He opened his eyes to find the boy gone. He disappeared without a trace.

Aster looked up and down the street. He wasn't making this up. He had touched the boy. He was real, wasn't he?

Aster groaned a little as he stood. His erection was there, loud and proud. His cock really liked the idea of being inside that tight, warm cavern. He lowly moaned. Aster was definitely jacking off when he got home. Not that that was away from his daily routine in the least. Ever since he saw the boy he had be using the boy for pleasure.

Aster exhaled slowly as he turned to the bus stop. Something shiny in the snow caught his attention. He bent down with some difficulty and looked at the snow. Before him, lay the rabbit charm from the boy's anklet. A little white rabbit with an _Evergreen_ ribbon tied in a bow around its neck.

In awe, Aster picked up the charm. The rabbit wore a ribbon of a green that Aster made up. In the center of the bow on the side of animal's neck, an aster flower bloomed. Coincidence? Aster turned the charm over in his hand. On the back in a curved calligraphy, was one word. One that would haunt him until he was able to speak to the boy.

 _Friends_

This must be one of those _Best Friends_ charm bracelet things, where the two objects fit together and read _Best Friends_. Aster hummed. This must be pretty important for the boy to wear it all of the time. The paint was slightly chipping and the silver coating was rubbing off to show the brass and bronze layers. It was cheap, but it held memories that made up for the price.

 _Beep, Beep!_

Aster jumped from where he knelt in the snow. The bus was here and he didn't even notice. Aster smiled, a twitch of his lips. This boy just kept getting more and more mysterious.

And, it was a mystery that Aster will solve, gladly.

* * *

Author's Note: So, instead of updating this and TDF, I read a story by ma aime, Takara Phoenix. It was a really good story. I was on the edge of my seat til the very end. Go check her out! She mainly does Nicercy, but will do _anything_ where Percy is a bottom. Have fun exploring! C: Hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun writing this! See you later! *waves*

P.S.: Brownie points to people who review!


	3. Frosted Windows

The third time Aster saw him, it was through a window.

 _It's not as bad as you think._

Aster stared down at the little metallic rabbit in his palm. It looked better now that he had fixed it up. The little charm almost looked brand new. The painter smiled, his craftsmanship shined through on this piece. It really did.

He place the charm back onto the table, again. His gaze was torn from it when the waitress went by and filled his half empty mug with fresh coffee. They exchanged smiles before she fleeted to the next customer.

No that he minded. Though, the waitress just ruined his cup of Joe. He had the perfect balance of sweetness and cream. He grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest. Aster slouched slightly in his booth while mentally crushing at the waitress. Stupid hospitality non since.

He looked around the diner. He was one of the only ones in. And, who could blame him. It was almost ten. He wanted a moment to himself before his friends arrived.

His gaze returned to the saucer that his lukewarm coffee sat. He didn't even want the coffee in the first place. The caffeine would keep him restless all night long. Tossing and turning; trying to at least _dream._ He sighed. This was, certainly, not good for his health.

He rubbed his eyes with the pads of his thumb and pointer. He was exhausted, but not tired. He couldn't and he wouldn't fall asleep. He almost had an idea on 'Why?', but not necessary the reason behind the 'Why?'.

The bell chimed above the door, indicating new arrivals in the diner. Aster didn't look up. He just waited patiently with his head cradled in his hands.

When he heard the sound of the bench sit protesting, he didn't look up. Nor did he when the waitress took his friends orders. The waitress left, saying empty promises while taking the menus from the table. A hush fell over the table. No one said a word. It was unnerving.

A small hand rested on his clothed forearm. He didn't react to it.

"What's the matter, Bunny?"

It was an open question. A rhetorical question. An innocent question. Aster didn't know how to respond.

He lifted his head.

"I-I" He cleared his throat. "I haven' seen _him_ for a tic."

The woman across from him arched a brow.

"Who, Bunny?"

Aster looked to the see. He watched the wall as he thought about his next words, carefully.

" _Him._ Frostbite."

He got a head tilt in return, from the party across from him. He swallowed. _Great,_ he thought, _time to explain._

"He is the air that I breath. He is the inspiration that I seek. He is the perfection that I know. He is my m-"

A hand with teal manicured nails covered his mouth to stop him from going on. He looked into the violet eyes of the female across from him. Her eyes held pity.

"What's the _matter_ , Bunny?"

She removed her hand and allowed him to answer.

"I-I haven' seen 'im in _four_ days."

She raised an elegant brow.

"And, what's the problem in that?"

"I normally see 'im every couple o' days."

The waitress came and sat the desired drinks down in front of each of his friends. A peppermint latte for North and a super-duper, sugar-infused frappe thing for Tooth. The waitress asked if they knew what they were going to order and Tooth told her the polite way to _get the hell lost._

Tooth turned back to Aster after the waitress left. She made the universal sign to continue with a wave of her hand.

Aster ran a hand through his hair. "He-He's just a _kit._ And, I think he lives off of the streets. Not like a hobo. Like a prostitute. He's always dressed in these ridiculously revealing outfits. But, they're _sheila_ cloths. So, uh…"

Aster sank lower into the booth, embarrassed. He didn't like talking to his best friends about his uber gay feelings for someone he hasn't met properly. It made him sound lonely. Super lonely.

Tooth processed the information. She twirled the straw in her drink while she stared a hole into the table. Aster knew her long enough to know not to interrupt her while she was in the middle of concentrating.

Aster chanced a glance at North. The white haired painter sipped his coffee quietly. He must be thinking too.

Aster looked down at the white rabbit in his hand. The metal back felt cold in his hand. He caressed the white fur with his thumb. This little rabbit had sentiment. Aster wanted to know why.

Tooth shifted in Aster's peripheral. North and her talked in hushed voices amongst themselves. The debate got so heated, Tooth was using hand gestures. And, not the good kind.

North cleared his throat. Aster looked at them. Tooth looked away with her arms crossed over her chest. She huffed and slid down in her seat, the clear loser of what had been discussed.

Aster looked at North. He looked serious. The childlike wonder always present in his azure eyes, gone. Aster sat up, posture perfect. It seems those etiquette classes that his mother forced him to go to didn't go to waste.

North bore into Aster's soul. "Where'd you get the rabbit, Bunny?"

Aster looked down at the charm in his hand. Simple question; easy answer. But, how does one phrase it not to sound like pedofile? The first three responses Aster thought of weren't it.

Aster exhaled, "From the beaut dressed like a _sheila_ …"

It wasn't a lie and it wasn't the complete truth. Half truths didn't need explanations. Well, most of the time. And this time, Aster didn't luck out.

North leaned forward onto the counter of the table. It inclined under the weight of his elbows. Enough to see, but not to have the potential energy of falling objects become kinetic. He brought his hands together under his biker bread. He raised a bushy eyebrow. It was Russian sign-language for, "Continue."

Aster sighed and slouched. Tooth mumbled death threats under her breath as she recrossed her legs under the table. Well, this was going to get awkward.

"Um…" Aster had to start from some point. Where, though? Maybe more half-truths.

Aster cleared his throat. "You know the alley on the corner o' Ninth and Bennett?"

That got the other bushy eyebrow raised. More death threats from Tooth's teal painted lips. Who knew Tooth could cuss like a sailor?

"The kit; he's always in there. Doin' what? I don' know. But… He normally comes out onto the street corner, runnin'."

Tooth sat up a little, her mouth set in a frown. Whatever caught her attention, it went right over Aster's head. North still looked as stoic as ever.

"And, I. Ima waitin' at the bus stop. And…"

Tooth looked irritated. North's face was blank. Aster swallowed, watering his dry throat. He could already feel his cheeks heating.

"It was like one of those cheap _sheila_ moments. Time slowed down. It'was jus' the two o' us. Him, wearing _faux_ fur that match his soft hair."

North grunted. Tooth rolled her eyes. Aster looked out the window and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. _Christ_ , this was difficult to explain.

Aster continued while looking out the window. It had started to snow.

"I-At first, I though' it'was because I hadn' been laid in awhile, but… The feeling became more palpable. Sensual, even. But, I… I want more. More than his beautiful body, I want his heart, mind, and soul."

Aster looked away from the scenery to his friends at the table. His blush still dusted his cheeks.

"Does that make me selfish? For cravin' a total stranger? Or, does it make me… _sick_?"

Aster spat out the last word like it was venom. He didn't want to be one of _those_ men, that got off to children. He didn't. Yet, here he was, pining over a _kit_ of all things.

Tooth's facade fell when she saw the look of disgust that was on Aster's face. She came around the table and wrapped him in a one arm, side hug. Her other hand combed through his deep cobalt hair. It was nearly navy, at this point.

Tooth cooed at him. North patted his arm from across the table.

"Aster, look at me."

Aster looked at the Russian.

"You won't become _him_."

And that's all it took. It was as if a dam broke. Aster couldn't stop the tears from falling. Tooth cooed over him and brought his head down to her chest. His ear over her heart.

"Oh, Bunny."

And, he cried. All of the pent up emotion of a struggling gay man. All the heartache he hadn't allowed to get to him. All of the stress. It was finally free.

"It's alright, Bunny. Let it out. It isn't healthy to let all of _this_ stay bottled up inside. Let it go… God, I'm going to _kill_ Jack. No more _Frozen_ for you!"

Tooth continued to talk to herself as Aster released his liquid emotions. They streamed down his face. Each painstakingly drop of the oxymoron that is his emotional level coming down to his physical level. It was hard to deny something when could be touched, felt; _named._

He cried, until he ran out of tears. Aster hiccuped. Tooth had his snot and tears all over her blouse. It was going to have to be dry-cleaned. He sat his head down on the table. It felt cool against his heated face.

Tooth continued to run her fingers in his hair while she spoke in quiet voices with North. Aster rolled his eyes under his eyelids. His head was killing him, but he felt better. He felt lighter. It made him feel at ease.

A glass of a lukewarm liquid was pressed against his forehead.

"Hey, Bunny. You need to drink something. You're dehydrated."

Tooth's soothing voice convinced him to crack one eye open. A glass filled with water was against his head and the diner's artificial lights hurt his eyes and his head. He sat up enough to drink. He grabbed the glass in a weak grip and downed the contents in three, generous gulps.

Setting the glass to the side, Aster laid his head down on his crossed arms on top of the table. Tooth smiled down at him, obscuring the white light. She went back to petting his head, until their meals arrived. They ate with light conversation. Mainly, his friends talked. However, when he was promoted to answer, he would nod or make an agreeing sound. He felt rather drained from his orbital valves leaking.

/line break\

It got close to Aster's favorite part of the night. The one hour of the night where it didn't feel too late or too early. It was a compromised medium. The hour that has been bewitched infinite times to repeat or be skipped. Within the hour, it held the secret of time travel and obscuring sleep patterns.

And, in the magical hour, lives change. For better. For worst. Till death do us part because _this_ was the one true marriage no one could divorce. Time.

Aster ate his second piece of carrot cake. He stabbed a bite with the silverware he had been given with his meal. Every now and then, he would get a hint of mint that was on his spring salad.

When the bowl of leaf lettuce got to the table, Tooth muttered, "Rabbit food."

Aster snorted, but said nothing. For, he knew too well, about the on-again-off-again relationship Tooth had with anything that was green. It was just easier to trick her into thinking she was eating ripe tomatoes or colored squash. Worked every time, too.

North bit into his nothing-junior-about-this-heart-attack-on-a-bun and Tooth dung into her chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes with _brown_ gravy.

 _It has to be brown gravy. The white gravy makes me think of other white stuff and… It makes me think that someone in the Back of the House jized all over my food and graded black pepper on i- Hey! It's not funny. It's exactly what cum tastes like. Why else do you think I quit eating biscuits and gravy?_

Aster savored the last bite of his dessert. It was the best and worst part about the end because it was delicious. It made you crave for more, yet there was no more to be had. Moderation was a bitch.

He looked out the window. The snow fell like powdered sugar; lightly dusting the ground with sweetness. All of the street lamps were on, casting the evening darkness in honey and gold. The streets were abandoned, the cars isolated. It was beautiful. Like stepping back from a seen in a painting; yet, this masterpiece had no decorative boundaries.

However, reality reared its ugly head. A shadow stumbled into the pristine picture of a far off paradise. Aster sighed. Stupid drunks.

He looked back into the diner, at the booth across from him. Tooth and North fed each other bites of apple pie à la mode. They giggled at some inside joke that they only knew. Tooth took the spoon that they shared. She scooped a part of the pie, ice cream, and caramel sauce into the tip of the spoon. She presented it to North, who opened his mouth. She fed North the bite. A little of the vanilla ice cream got into the corner of his mouth.

Tooth giggled. North looked at her.

"You got some ice cream on your mouth."

North stuck out his tongue and licked around his mouth. Tooth giggled again.

"You missed it. Here, let me get it for you."

Tooth dabbed her checkered napkin against North's face. He smiled down at her, azure eyes sparkling. She pulled away and he pecked her on the lips. She giggled when he pulled away.

Aster smiled at them around the spoon still in his mouth. They were one of the sweetest couples he knew. Too adorable for words, really. And, with them being together, it reminded him of what he want out of a relationship. Someone that will stick with you, even through your faults. Love.

 _Clank. Clank._

Aster looked out the window. He gasped and the spoon fell from his mouth. It bounced off of the booth and loaded on the tile floor with a sharp ringing. Time stopped.

Outside, on the other side of the window, stood _his_ Frostbite. In the white light of the diner, injuries came to light. He had one black eye. His bottom lip was split and dried blood in the wound. His hair was disheveled. His faux coat, dirty. He hugged one of his sides and favored a leg over the other. His eyes - his _beautiful_ eyes - held several emotions. Fear, pain, shame, relief.

He placed a pale palm to the glass. He left a bloody handprint. Aster sucked in a breath. _Oh God._

Tears flowed from his emotional eyes, cascading down his face. His mouth moved, yet Aster couldn't hear what he said. The blood smeared on the window as he fell to his knees on the sidewalk. Before he fell completely out of sight, Aster was already out of the booth. He exited the diner and fell beside the kit.

Blurred, blue eyes looked up at Aster. The painter caressed the white hair and cooed at him, an emotion clogging his throat. _What happened to him?_

Two shadows flanked Aster, as he knelt on the powdered concrete. North talked into his phone, reporting the emergency to the person on the other side. Tooth cried and chanted one name over and over, under her breath.

North closed his phone.

"Ambulance is on its way."

Tooth clung to North's sleeve like a lifeline. She buried her face into his chest and cried. North held her, his eyes on the empty street.

Aster moved one of his hands to the kit's head and brushed some of his hair away from his face. He rested his palm on the non-injured side of his face. He cooed over him, pressing his other hand onto his side wound. The warm life oozed from beneath his fingers.

A siren could be heard off in the distance.

The kit puffed out two words that would change Aster. For better. For worst. Forever.

 _Thank… you…_

At that moment was when the EMTs decided to wedge in between him and the kit. They lifted the kit onto a stretcher and packed him into the back of the medical vehicle. He whimpered as he bounced from the force.

The ambulance sped away, sirens blaring. After that, the night returned to its tranquil self. The painted paradise.

Aster turned around to see his friends. North still held Tooth as she cried. He brushed his lips against her temple. She hiccuped. Aster didn't know what to say. Every time he tried, it didn't seem right. So, Aster stared after the medical vehicle.

Clothes rustled. Words exchanged. Aster turned at the sound of his name.

"Aster."

He looked at Tooth's red rimmed eyes.

"How… How do you know Jack?"

* * *

Author's Note: Hello my pretties~ Sorry for the later update. Finals kicked my ass... I think I manged to think of a schedule that would work for updating. I will update SA on the fourth of every mouth and I'll update TDF on the twenty-fourth of every mouth. However, I will not be updating TDF on Christmas Eve. Spend time with your families! T'is the season and all that jazz... Hope you enjoyed this as much as I had fun, (I didn't have fun writing _some_ of this) writing this! See you later! *waves*

P.S.: Brownie points to people who review!

 _Guest:_ Thanks for the praise. Phoe is a great friend and inspiration. She's the one who got me writing again. I loved her works so much that I wanted to try it for myself and here are the end results - SA and TDF. I'm glad you liked the story thus far. I love hearing from the readers. Keep reviewing! C:


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